


Heartstrings

by louciferish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Red String of Fate, Soulbound Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish
Summary: He propels himself forward, no longer simply pulled along by the threads of his heart.A short ficlet I wrote to promote Soulbound: a Yuri on Ice soulmates-themed zine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written to promote [Soulbound](http://yoisoulmatezine.tumblr.com/) and inspired by [Morgen's amazing art](https://morgen-huoreart.tumblr.com/post/170862859601/im-so-happy-i-can-finally-post-this-omg-this-is) for the zine.

The first thing Yuuri perceives is an insistent pulling deep in his gut. It’s not quite pain, but it’s not exactly pleasant, like a finger tugging at his navel. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the ribbon, floating out from his chest and disappearing into the blackness. 

He puts his hand over his heart quickly to keep the ribbon inside. Although he’s not sure how it got there, the touch of it against his hand feels like his mother’s cooking, sitting snug in the warmth of the kotatsu with Vicchan, or lying in the grass with Yuuko, watching the cherry blossoms fall. In the enveloping darkness, the red ribbon seems to glow. The tugging stops. He wraps his free hand around the ribbon, and cautiously tugs back twice.

The ribbon begins pulling him forward into the void, but he’s not frightened, not worried, just mildly curious. 

The smooth glide of the ribbon’s lure reminds him of playing at the rink as a kid, when bigger skaters might tow him around the rink, his little hands clutching tightly to the sleeve of a spare jacket. He can even feel the slip of the blades beneath him, cutting through the ice.

The air around him brightens gradually, stars bursting into life in the blackness; the ribbon’s path is illuminated in the swirl of distant galaxies. Beneath his feet, the ice is mirror flawless, reflecting every pinpoint of the stars and planets in perfect symmetry. It stretches unbroken on every side, with no horizon visible, no edge, like skating through a placid ocean of night.

A single beam of light lies straight ahead at the end of his ribbon, and Yuuri feels his heart surge when he sees it. Eagerly, he propels himself forward, no longer simply pulled along by the threads of his heart. 

Though there’s no wind here, his hair whips as he picks up speed, the stars blurring to streaks of light all around him. In the distance, the figure of light remains a beacon, pulling him in, closer, faster, not fast enough.

Too fast. The light is approaching too quickly. Yuuri can feel the warmth of it on his skin like the rays of a winter sun, and still his advance isn’t slowing. He bends his knees, trying to brake, but catches on emptiness, the feeling of his blades dissolving until there is no ice, no friction, only air. 

He knows he can’t stop his collide with the figure ahead, but it shows no signs of recognition or response.

“Look out!” Yuuri cries. He has no fear for himself, only a paralyzing terror fizzing through his limbs at the thought of breaking his beacon. He wants to protect the shining figure, even if it means shattering himself.

The beacon resolves, turning. Victor Nikiforov stares back at Yuuri, his eyes blown wide, with Yuuri’s red ribbon wound tightly around his fist.

When Yuuri jerks awake, his palm is still flat over his heart.


	2. pt. 2 - Victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor's story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The companion piece, also for Morgen's art and the Soulbound zine :)

Victor Nikiforov lies down each night and embraces darkness.

He can never forget the first night he crawled into bed to await the dreams, his skin electric with nervous anticipation. He lay awake for hours, his heart pounding and eyes squeezed tightly shut as he willed his breathing to slow. Finally, exhausted from the weight of the day, his body surrendered itself to slumber.

He woke five hours later and stared up at the speckled ceiling, feeling a knot form at the pit of his stomach. His sleep was dreamless.

After that came phases and trends modeled after the advice of daytime talk show hosts and magazines aimed at lonely hearts. He realigns his sleep until he lives like a vampire, curled in his bed all day and emerging only after dark. 

His coach does not care for that phase. 

He falls asleep in strange places and unpredictable times, taking sleep aids in order to catch a nap at noon on a park bench by the rink.

Yakov pulls him aside after months of this, gently pressing him down into an overstuffed antique chair. “You can’t force things to happen before the universe is ready, Vitya,” he says calmly, his hands still resting on Victor’s slim shoulders. “This is one of those cases where your pushing harder will do no good. Slow down. Learn patience. The dreams will come.” 

Something ugly claws at Victor’s throat when he sees the wistful smile that graces his coach’s face as he talks of dreams. Yakov and Lilia dream side by side in their room, but Victor lies alone in the blackness.

He practices patience like Yakov asked. There’s no other option remaining. 

Each night he lies down with a seed of hope in his heart, and each morning he stares at the ceiling. He feel the despair grow stronger, a serpent coiling tightly around his heart.

It’s been 1,800 days. He marks it on his calendar in red. It's first day he’s admitted out loud that he’s considering early retirement. One can only skate so many programs themed around _Searching_.

He climbs into bed and waits for Makka to jump up, her comforting weight curled against his hip. He turns out the light and breathes a welcome to the blackness that swallows him.

The first thing Victor perceives is himself. He exists. He holds his arms out in front of his face, stretching to touch the velvety curtain of night. In the dark, his skin glows.

He looks around, but this is only a new version of nothing. His shoulders slump, and he stares down at his bare feet, wriggling his toes. 

Between his feet, something flickers, then shines. A single star illuminates beneath him, and he crouches, reaching for it. As his fingertips brush the surface, the darkness falls away.

There are stars _everywhere_ ; some are brilliant, and others just distant, fading specks. He turns to see stars tinged with shades of pink or blue or green and small pinpricks of light which pulse with a steady beat. There are swirls of galaxies, far-off suns, and the streaking tail of a comet as it soars past, close enough to touch.

Everything around him is bathed in light, and his breath catches, overwhelmed. He stares up at the heavenly dome in awed wonder.

“Look out!” A voice pierces his reverie. 

Victor spins, and his mouth drops open, shocked to find that he’s not alone. A boy soars toward him through the night, all wild black hair, pale skin, and glory. There’s a red ribbon clutched against his chest, the other end of which is wrapped around Victor, tangled in his own fingers. 

He opens his arms to welcome the boy in, but has only a glimpse of wide, coffee-brown eyes filled with stars. The boy vanishes, and so do the lights.

Victor shoots upright in his bed, arms still outstretched to the darkness of his room, and shouts in triumph.


End file.
